


My Favorite Mistake

by misslucyjane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, M/M, Snippets, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:22:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Prompted by <i>My Favourite Mistake</i> by Stephanie Bond)</p><p>When Bucky Barnes married Steve Rogers in a chapel in Vegas, he knew it was a mistake. So, despite an incredible honeymoon, he filed for divorce. Little did he realise that Steve would turn out to be his true Valentine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> You ever get bitten by a plot bunny but it just doesn't...come together?
> 
> Yeah, me too.
> 
> This scene was inspired by the prompt and is what made me want to write the story, but the plot that goes with it never quite got coherent. More story may appear at a later date.

There were far worse places to wake up than a billionaire's mountain vacation home, James supposed as he watched his daily video. It explained everything -- the origin of the titanium ring on his finger, the name of the man beside him, who owned this cabin and why he had lent it to them.

Vague memories of his past fluttered on the edge of his mind, but he did not pursue them. Later, maybe, but for now he was willing to accept what his video image told him and enjoy the warmth of being in bed with his husband.

 _Husband._ The word made James smile. The heat of him in the morning chill made James curl himself around him, arms and legs framing his, head tucked against his shoulder.

The video had said, _His name is Steve. He tells you the truth._

James believed it.

Still, it wouldn't last, would it? You can't marry a complete stranger and expect lifelong happiness -- especially to someone to whom you were a complete stranger every day. You'd have to make them fall in love with you over and over, and even the most patient man would grow tired of that.

James sighed, and in his arms, Steve stirred and murmured, "You awake?"

"Yes." He pressed his lips to the back of Steve's neck. 

"Did you watch your video?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I know who you are."

"Good," Steve said and took James's hand to kiss his palm. "We go back to New York today."

James nodded. The video had said that, too. 

"This was a nice interlude, but we have to get back to real life. We have to discover who you really are."

"And figure out who tried to make me kill you," James said. "And get divorced, and --"

Steve turned over, frowning. "Get divorced?"

"You can't actually want to stay married to me when all of this is over."

"What exactly did you say in that video?"

James handed Steve his phone. "The whole story, I think. You married me because you thought it would protect me, but let's be real, Steve. Being the husband of a superhero doesn't make me any less a criminal."

"We don't know if you're a criminal," Steve murmured and began to play back the video.

"We don't know that I'm not."

Steve looked up at him, then back at the video.

When it was done, Steve clicked the phone into its sleep mode and put it aside with a sigh. He ran his hands through his hair. He said slowly, "James, I ... I don't want to divorce you. I will if you insist, but I really think ... I think you and me, we really have a shot at making each other happy."

"We've known each other five days."

"Five of the happiest days of my life."

"I tried to kill you twice."

"Don't you think if you really wanted to, you would have succeeded?"

"You're always going to have a counter-argument," James observed, shaking his head.

"It's part of my charm," Steve replied, ducking his head and looking at James through his lashes, and James wondered how many times that look had gotten Steve exactly what he wanted from whomever was on the receiving end. "But seriously, James, I haven't felt this kind of connection with someone since before the war. I don't think this is the kind of thing you should just set aside because it happened fast."

James had to look away. "That's no reason to stay married, Steve."

"It's no reason to get divorced."

"And what if I really am a criminal?" James said. "What if I've -- I don't know -- slaughtered schoolchildren?"

Steve said softly, "I think that would have shown by now, if that were true. There are things that are fundamental in a person, and fundamentally, you are decent. You are good. Every time you've tried to hurt me it's been after a phone call, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that violence has come from outside, not from here." He knocked James's chest lightly with his knuckles. James put his hand over Steve's to hold it there. "Fundamentally, you kind of like me, kid."

"Is this how you always do it? Argue until the other person just gives up out of sheer exhaustion?"

"It usually works for me." He smiled, charming, handsome, delicious, and James kissed him, arms around his neck.

"How did you get me to marry you?" he whispered.

"I asked." Steve kissed him back.

His mind may have been a wasteland of vagueness and lies, but his body knew Steve's. Their mouths fit together like they were statues carved from the same rock. 

They kissed for a while, leisurely and slowly, until James buried himself in Steve's arms and tucked his head against Steve's neck. Steve chuckled and combed his fingers through James's hair. 

He said softly, "Hey, can I show you something?"

"Yes, please."

Steve kissed his forehead and got out of bed. He went to the motorcycle saddlebags and canvas knapsacks piled in the corner of the bedroom, and dug through them to pull out a sketchbook. He came back to bed, and James sat up so he could look at the sketches.

Steve didn't hand him the book, though, and turned it over in his hands a few times before he spoke. "I went to that bar because everybody who knew I was taking this trip said the burgers were the best in Las Vegas," he said slowly. "I've told you that before. What I haven't told you, though, is why I took this trip in the first place.

"I had this ... friend, back in Brooklyn. He was everything to me. Best friend, family. Sweetheart."

James said nothing, watching him.

"During the war, we served together, and sometimes we'd talk about what we'd do when the war was over. I'd traveled the country from one side to the other but mostly just theaters and train stations, and he'd never been further west than Ohio. So we decided we'd buy a jalopy and drive west until we reached the ocean, and we see everything worth seeing. He especially wanted to see the Grand Canyon.

"Only..." Steve swallowed. "Only he didn't come home."

James nodded slowly. "And then you were frozen for seventy years."

"Yeah," Steve said. "And I haven't had the easiest time getting used to this century. So after something happened in New York that we can talk about later, I decided to take that road trip. I decided it was time my friend saw the rest of the country." He opened the sketchbook to a page stained with coffee rings and streaks of sand and engine grease, and on the page was drawn a face -- a young man with wide eyes and dark hair, a sharp jaw and heavy brows.

James's face.

Steve said, "His name was James Buchanan Barnes. I called him Bucky."

James put his hand out to touch the drawing. "I don't--" He looked at Steve. "I don't understand."

Steve said, his tone gentle, "From the moment I saw you in the bar, I keep having this crazy thought. That maybe Bucky didn't die. That maybe something like what happened to me, happened to him. That maybe if I say the right words, show you the right pictures, maybe you'll remember me."

James reached over to grasp Steve by the back of his head, and kissed him, hard. Steve inhaled and shoved the book aside, and pulled James closer to him so they could kiss each other, desperate and hungry.

Still, James pulled away to whisper, "I'm not your Bucky. I'm not."

"I know," Steve answered, "but I love you like you are."


End file.
